I'll Take Perdition
by Careene Edmonds
Summary: Lori Durant has lived a pampered existence in Baltimore but all that is about to change when she moves to Dodge. Her brother George left four orpahns, a ton of bills and a neighboring rancher who wants Lori's farm. It takes grit to survive and Lori is ab
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

_Mrs. Edmonds tried to warn me about perdition,_ Lori Durant mused. _And perdition is where I've landed_. Lori picked at her dress, which thanks to the heat, clung to her body in saturated discomfort. The sun beat down from overhead roasting her as if she were a slab of beef on a spit. She had protection in the form of a parasol, but a gust of wind ripped it from her fingers and for all she knew had carried it off to Colorado. "For the first time, I'm regretting my decision," she muttered daubing a handkerchief along the back of her neck.

"Better buck up," Moss Grimmick said nodding in her direction. "Besides, your brother's is the next stop." Lori perked up at the mention of her brother's homestead and cupped a hand over her eyes hoping to catch a glimpse. In every direction she looked, flat barren ground covered by knee high prairie grass danced and twisted in the wind. The movement reminded her of ocean waves lapping against the sides of a boat, only her vessel was not a ship. It was a jolting, creaking buckboard. Lori longed to reach George's farm and its well. His letters boasted of the coolest deepest well in Ford County.

"I don't see it," Lori whined.

"That's cause we ain't there yet." Lori studied the thin, pinched faced man, relieved he decided lend her a meager exchange of words. For the past hour the only activity he bothered to engage in was tobacco chewing- and spitting. Moss Grimmick owned the Dodge City livery stable. And when Lori approached the town's deputy, he recommended 'Ole Moss' for the job of escort. Only the deputy failed to warn Lori about Mr. Grimmick's sour disposition – or devotion to his muck rake. It took careful application of feminine wiles, and when those failed, a three dollar tip to induce the man to leave his equine castle.

"Unloading all those bags is gonna cost extra lest you git those nephews of yer's to do it, and they best move cause I ain't got time to lollygag." Mr. Grimmick tilted his chin and spit a blackened stream of tobacco juice over the side of the wagon.

Lori gagged at the sight of the tarry stream and made a concentrated effort to ignore the man's bad manners. After all she told herself, this was the frontier, not a tea room. If only he had bothered to take a bath. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of perspiration mingling with horse sweat. Lori closed her eyes picturing a lovely bath tub filled to the brim with cool, refreshing water.

"May I ask you something Mr. Grimmick?" Lori hoped to wheedle a conversation out of the sour man and break up the monotony. It was also a way to keep him from loading more tobacco into his mouth.

"You can ask. Whether or not I can answer is another matter." The man aimed his next stream of tobacco for a yucca plant and missed.

"Is all this prairie land unclaimed? I haven't seen any fences."

"Most of the land around these parts is owned by Dell Kendrick. He runs the South Wind ranch. Butts right up to George's place. Dell's been talking about fencing. Hasn't done it yet. I guess he still prefers open range."

_South_ _Wind, an appropriate name for a ranch out here. _

Moss Grimmick felt himself warm up to the idea of a conversation. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a good yammering. Most of the things he discussed weren't fit for delicate ears. _"_Now your brother wanted to fence, but well after Elizabeth died, he never got around to it. Things kinda went downhill for 'im."

Poor George, Lori sighed. Life had never been easy for her older brother. "George wrote to me when Elizabeth died. He blamed himself."

"Can't see why'd he do that. Pardon my saying so, but that wife of his didn't take care of herself with that last baby. Doc warned her, but she worked herself into a hard labor." He reddened at the use of the indelicate word. "What I mean is Doc did all he could for her. Well this is the place," Mr. Hanks said and nodded to the right of Lori.

Lori turned and stared ahead in mute shock. "No, no, no, this can't be the place." It couldn't be she told herself willing the site to disappear. George promised. "But its sod," she gasped.

"Best sod house in the county."

A half hinged door flung open and three ratty dressed, barefooted heathens strode into the yard. Suspicion covered faces coated in grime. A squalling baby noise came from somewhere deep inside the interior of the… yep…a dirt clod.

_My new home is a house sized dirt clod_.

A miserable thought crossed Lori's mind, and without thinking she said, "If the outside is made of dirt, then so is the inside."

"Well that'd stand to logic. Now some folks paper or paint the insides. Course George never did."

_I'm being punished for telling Mrs. Edmonds to shove off. She will never let me move home. In fact by now she's probably turned her house into a sanctuary for stray cats. _

"You the aunt?" A grubby hand yanked at the hem of her skirt. Lori peered down at the matted haired, filthy faced urchin and felt the sharp intake of air. His grip left blackened smudges on her silk taffeta. "Why'd ya suck in air like that for?" The heathen asked.

"You got the consumption?" Another asked.

"You kids git those bags for yer aunt. Come on git busy. I ain't got all day," Mr. Grimmick rumbled. Lori wondered how he'd respond to the idea of driving her back to Dodge.

The oldest of Lori's heathen charges glared at the sight of the baggage. He was dark haired, at least the hair appeared dark under all the grease.

Lori remained seated in the buckboard too stunned to move, trying to absorb her plight. She wanted to understand why George misled her. The sod house, Lori held her nose at the thought of calling it a home, was bad enough. He might have at least set a proper door. And where were the windows? Could there be a fireplace? The wind changed direction assaulting her senses with the pungent aroma of fresh pig manure.

"Why would George place his barnyard within smelling distance of the house?" she mumbled.

"Yep, George was sure proud of this place." Mr. Grimmick spit another wad of juice.

"Mr. Grimmick, you gonna teach me to spit like that?" A heathen asked.

"No I ain't, now git them bags."

Lori's eyes darted around the farm searching for the well. She noticed the barn and was pleased it was constructed of timber, the parts standing anyway. The roof missed several boards, and the construction leaned to the left. A corral sat adjacent, its makeshift slats falling apart piece by piece. Inside the corral, a small group of pigs frolicked in mud. She wondered what one called a group of pigs; a herd – a flock? All Lori understood was the smell. They stank. She turned her head away and continued her search. They had to have a well. George promised he had the best water in the county. Lori rubbed her forehead. George promised a lot of things.

After hoisting Lori's trunk over his shoulder, the oldest heathen grunted, "That's all of it Mr. Mr. Grimmick."

"Well," The sour man glared at Lori. "You getting down or what?"

"Oh," Lori said and gingerly maneuvered her way off the wagon. Her foot slipped and she caught the buckboard seat in an attempt to keep from falling. In the process, her skirt became entangled in the splintered side of the buckboard.

"I can help," said the heathen who smudged her skirt. He yanked at the fabric filling the air with a sharp rip. Lori's stomach turned as she beheld the jagged gash in the taffeta. She gazed down into two blue eyes beaming up at her. "Adds to the smudges," she said, and attempted a wry smile.

"You sure yer my aunt?" He asked. "You look more like one of them fancy ladies."

"What?"

"You sure you ain't got the consumption?" The other heathen asked.

"No I haven't got the consumption. And I can assure you I'm not a fancy lady. I happen to like pretty things." Lori knew she was a vain woman, but she didn't care. She enjoyed her clothes and she like to play up her figure's best attributes. In anticipation of meeting her new family, she chose a favorite cream silk taffeta. By the looks of George's dirt farm, she ought to have dressed in a flour sack. She'd fit in better.

The oldest heathen sneered in Lori's direction and cast a wad of spit at her feet. Blanching, Lori raised her skirts and took step backwards knocking over one of her carpet bags. The two smaller heathens poked and prodded at petticoats and under-things which tumbled onto the hard ground. From inside the dirt clod, the baby's squall climaxed to a fevered pitch.

"Git up," Mr. Hanks yelled and slapped the reins across the mule's backs. Lori watched the wagon roll across the prairie leaving her behind. Misery knotted her stomach as she realized she'd skipped perdition and landed straight into the devil's drawing room.

"We ain't takin no bath," Brett flatly informed Lori. The two younger heathens crossed their arms in defiance. The baby, Ceilia, let loose a fresh squall.

"You will bathe and you will be brought up to live as good Christians, not heathens," Lori said over the timbre of Ceilia's ear-splitting squall. "It's what your parents desired and what I will see to." Lori plucked Ceilia off the dirt floor and cooed softly in the child's matted hair.

"Hush sweetheart," Lori said holding the baby close to her chest. Ceilia quieted once Lori discovered the source of the baby's discomfort. Lori watched helplessly as the overflow from the worn diaper spilled onto her smudged and ripped skirt. "She needs changing and a bath as well. It's a wonder the four of you aren't covered in lice. It'll be all I can do to avoid them myself–fleas too for that matter."

"You may be our aunt, but it ain't no call to go insulting us," Brett said. The oldest, he took an immediate dislike to his aunt and her uppity attitude. Brett Durant didn't need some far off relation taking over his home-least of all some fancy dressed nitwit from back east. She'd try and mother him. Well, he had a mother, and she was dead. And Brett reckoned God didn't make another woman good enough to take his ma's place. He'd make running off Lori Durant a pleasurable pastime. Shouldn't be hard either, he reasoned as dinky and frail as she looked.

Lori raised a pert eyebrow at the heathen. Sod houses, her ruined dress, and now Brett Durant, destroyed what remained of her mood. She stomped over to the dirt clod's main piece of furniture, a rickety wooden table and laid Ceilia on top. Lori removed the soiled diaper and plunked Ceilia back onto the dirt floor. Holding her nose, she gingerly lifted the putrid offense by the corners and raced to the lone window. Throwing it open wide, Lori tossed the offense onto the prairie.

Turning, she clasped her hands in front of her and took a long deep breath. Then she lost her composure. "I've traveled a thousand miles in dusty stagecoaches over rut filled roads. I've endured the company of gamblers, toothless buffalo hunters, and…" Lori stumbled for the proper word, "_frail sisters_. I've been forced to wade through mud ruining my best slippers I might add. And _all_ _that_ was before landing in Dodge City. Furthermore, I just spent an hour trudging through tick infested prairie grass, heat, wind, and savages probably hiding in every buffalo wallow, not to mention the lovely little sticker known as a goat's head…"

"Those smart. I got one in my foot once," Bobby said. He was the middle child. And of the three boys, the only one she'd trust with a sharp instrument–if her back wasn't turned.

"They aren't much better for hands," Lori said. She rubbed the reddened sore she picked up off the side of George's Soddy. One more reason she had to despise dirt clods.

"You always throw your arms around like that when you talk?" Billy asked. He was the youngest boy, and naturally curious. He figured if she didn't have the consumption, maybe she had jerky bones. He'd heard old timers, like Mr. Festus, sitting outside the barber shop talk about pains in the joints. Maybe she needed some liniment. They had plenty for the horses, but it was out in the barn.

Lori rolled her eyes at the little heathen's remark. "Where was I?" She asked the oldest.

"Traveling out to our place, but they ain't been no Indians round these parts for awhile. They stick to their reservations 'cept when they raid." Brett gave a momentary thought about traveling over to Fort Dodge; invite a few Comanche Scouts over for Sunday supper.

"Yes and thank you Brett for your keen observation on our red brothers." Lori leaned out the window drawing fresh air into her lungs. Her dress smelled as badly as her new family. "Children, I've survived traveling through perdition and where do I find myself? This place, which isn't exactly a scene out of a Currier and Ives print. Look you three, I traded a comfortable townhouse full of fine china and overstuffed sofas to live here, a dirt clod. So if I say take a bath, take a bath you will."

"It ain't a dirt clod Aunt Lori," Bobby said. "It's a soddy and the finest in the county. Took our pa months to build it. Ain't that right Brett?"

"Sure is. And we got furniture too Aunt Lori. Table works and we got a bench for sitting. We got a lantern for night time and plenty of stuff to cook with. Back behind the quilt over there is a bed with a dresser and wash basin too." Boy was she dense. They had all the comforts they needed. Yep, running her off was gonna be a hoot. Brett grinned as the temptation got the better of him. "Sod houses are the best for the plains Aunt Lori. Cool in summer; warm in winter. The only drawbacks are rattle snakes in the roof, and when it rains, the ceiling drips mud."

"I have a pet bull snake Aunt Lori Wanna see him?" Billy piped up.

Lori swallowed hard and stared up at the ceiling. Mud and pigs were unpleasant at best; snakes were an entirely different crisis.

"By the way, who's a Currier?" Billy asked jerking on Lori's skirt to get her attention. He wondered if they might be those folks over in Comanche County the Marshall kept talking about stringing up.

"Oh," Lori said mourning the comforts of rugs and overstuffed sofas. "Do any of you realize right now at this very minute I could be sitting next to the ocean at Wilmington's Hotel having tea, but oh no. I'm in the middle of an oceans worth of goat's heads, pigs, mud, wind but no trees mind you, and snakes. Your pa never wrote me about snakes!"

"Aunt Lori, we got trees out here," Bobby said. "You need trees for wind. You just ain't seen 'em all yet. Want me to show you?" Poor Aunt Lori must have real bad eyesight. And the way she talked, he thought she hated the prairie. Not Bobby. He loved it. There was no other place on earth he reckoned where in spring the grass turned zillions of colors. That was on account of all the wild flowers. He remembered his momma used to pick them for the house. He missed his pa, but there were things about his momma Bobby yearned for. Wildflowers in spring and the way his momma laughed were the two things he missed most.

Lori rubbed her forehead and ceded the point. "Fine Bobby. You have trees. Something has to account for the wind out here. But let me get one thing straight. I'm the aunt and from this point forward, I'm in charge. Therefore, the four of you _will_ bathe once I figure out how to work this thing." Lori took her frustration out on the cook stove viciously kicking it. "Damn!" She grabbed her foot and jigged across the room, pain shooting through her big toe. The boys giggled. "You did not hear me curse," she said cringing at her use of the obscenity. "Is there a church in town?" It wasn't too late for penance. Maybe she could keep the fires of hell at bay.

"Nope," Billy said. "We got some preacher who travels a lot but no church."

"Say we agree to take a bath." Brett stuck his hands in what remained of his tattered pockets. "Scrub behind the ears and everything. What's in it for us?"

"Other than resembling Christian children instead of savage heathens?" Lori was taken aback at the grime encrusted scowl. Was he planning to scalp her or burn her at the stake? Perhaps she should try a new tactic. She had to admit that sarcasm, although her favorite personality trait, was not exactly a way to influence muck faced heathens.

Hoping a bribe might do the trick, Lori sugarcoated her words. "I brought presents. You take baths and you git, I mean _get_, your presents. Then tomorrow, we start scrubbing this place," she said feeling a dismal sense of defeat.

"We like presents," Bobby and Billy chimed in and began stripping off their rags.

"Wait a minute!" Lori scanned the interior for the necessary equipment. "First we need water and a tub, and somebody will have to show me how you work this." She nodded in the direction of the cook stove.

"We use buffalo chips Aunt Lori." Brett replaced the scowl with a sardonic grin. "Builds up a right nice fire."

_So, he plans to burn me at the stake. I can read the headlines now; Buffalo chips used to roast eastern woman alive; Comanche Nation denies all knowledge._

"Buffalo chips? Ah yes, they come out of the end of the buffalo. Betcha thought I didn't know that. Well, why not." She threw her arms in the air. "Makes perfect sense to me. So will someone show me the way to the well? You do have water? George wrote that you had water."

"Best in the area," Brett said. "Come on Aunt Lori, I'll even show you how to gather those buffalo chips for the stove." Brett scooped Ceilia off the floor and followed Lori outside into the heat. "And don't you worry Aunt Lori. We haven't seen a rattle snake all day."

It took three hours of chip gathering, heating water, changing and reheating fresh water, but at last the urchins sat in front of Lori, scrubbed clean and shining. Lori shoved the last of their rags into the cook stove to burn. "Once I get settled, we'll go into Dodge for new clothes and things." She glanced at the children now fresh and smelling like her best honeysuckle soap. She hoped she remembered to pack more. It was one of the many frivolous items she vowed never to be without. She would have packed a crate had she realized its necessity.

Lori inspected her charges and decided she liked what she saw. Brett was a mirror image of his mother, dark hair, aristocratic cheekbones and soft rounded shoulders. He was in his early teens more solid than bulky, and he moved in self confident strides. Since George's death, Brett had taken over the farm and the parenting chores of his three younger siblings.

Bobby, the middle child, possessed the heart of a naturalist. Thick, wavy golden hair that trailed over the collar of his button-less shirt. Freckles dotted the bridge of his nose drawing attention to deep, chocolate colored eyes. He had a sturdy build and when he walked he mimicked Brett's strides.

The youngest, Billy and Ceilia were delicate boned imps. Billy had George's bright blue eyes and high forehead. More imp than child, he was thin as a blade of grass and lightning quick. This Lori discovered at bath time when she was forced to chase him through the corral, and the pigs, to get him into the tub.

The baby, Ceilia, toddled in her own little world of exploration. She reminded Lori of a set of loosely stacked cups, continually tottering and tipping. A round mouth held in a concentrated pout, contrasted against large hazel eyes.

Lori's thoughts were interrupted by a demanding teenage voice. "You gonna stare at us all day or you gonna live up to your promise?"

Lori decided to ignore Brett's rudeness. The loss of his parents, coupled with the responsibilities of both the farm and his siblings, weighed heavy on him. He needed time. "I was admiring the handsome family I inherited underneath all the muck and grime. I bet you four are the best looking set of siblings within fifty miles. Brett if you'd be so kind to bring my trunk over, I'll pass out the presents."

"Wow, this is like Christmas," Bobby said. He hoped his new aunt liked to pick wildflowers. He knew the best spot for his favorites.

Brett took an arm and swiped Lori's carpet bags from off the top of her trunk. "Never knew somebody to have so many bags," he muttered thinking she must have at least forty changes of duds. Heck, she'd already changed her clothes twice and it wasn't even dark yet. And she even burned that silk thing Ceilia messed on. Maybe he'd burn up all her duds.

"Can I git my present first?" Billy asked figuring since he liked presents best, the others could wait.

"Here." Brett dumped the trunk on the floor near Lori's feet nearly taking off a foot in the process.

"Why didn't you just drop it on my head?" Lori's sarcasm dripped as she spoke. "You've been trying to brain me since I got here."

"Didn't occur to me," Brett sneered at his aunt. He sat down on the bench testing her resolve. Lori made a mental note to sleep with one eye open for the next few years.

"Brett, knock it off," Bobby chastised his brother. "She just got here."

"Yeah, Brett knock it off. She's giving us presents ain't she? Aunt Lori can I git mine first?"

"No," Lori answered opening the trunk. She gave a sigh of relief noting the contents were safely intact. "I'll start with Ceilia since she's the youngest." On top of the clothing lay a china head doll. Lori reverently picked it up and held it for the boys to see. "This doll is for Ceilia. It was mine when I was her age. I think it's nice to have something special, and Missy was my favorite." She handed Ceilia the doll. Excited, Ceilia burbled around the dirt floor dragging the doll with her.

"Next, is your gift Billy."

"Oh boy!" Billy dashed over to the trunk. "Gimmee, gimmee," he cried jumping up and down.

Lori pulled a sling shot out from under a stack of linens. "Billy, this was your pa's. I thought maybe you might like something of his. Your pa got to be known as the terror of Maple Street. When people saw George's slingshot sticking out of his pants, they'd board over their windows."

"Wow! Look Bobby, my very own sling shot! And it belonged to pa! See Brett," he said holding it up for his big brother to look at. "Thanks Aunt Lori."

"You're welcome. Now to Bobby." Lori fished around in her trunk until she caught hold of the cloth wrapped bundle. She tugged it out of the trunk and ran a hand over the cloth. "This is special Bobby," she sighed. "I hope you enjoy them." She handed Bobby the bundle.

Bobby took the cloth in his lap and tried to figure out how to unwrap it. He found a string and tugged sending the books tumbling onto the floor. Bobby tried to sound happy. "Oh, books." He thought about asking if she had any more sling shots in her bags, but decided against it. It might hurt her feelings.

"Ah, not any books. Read the cover on that one," Lori said pointing to the top book.

"_The Terrible and True Adventures of The Waco Kid and His Arch Enemy, Tater Logan._" Bobby gazed up at Lori and brushed a wad of golden hair out of his eyes. He waited for an explanation.

Lori clapped her hands together and winced at the soreness from the goat's head. Rubbing the sting away on the side on her hip she explained, "When I was a small girl, about Billy's age, George and I lost our parents in a fire. We went to live with our mother's dearest friend, Mrs. Edmonds. Well I can tell you George didn't stick around long. The war started and it was his way to escape. You see, Mrs. Edmonds was a strange sort of lady."

"How so?" Bobby asked.

"Well, for one thing, she hired a voodoo witch to help her nurse wounded soldiers during the war."

"Nut uh," Brett said.

"Cross my heart. Mrs. Edmonds turned her home into a convalescent center for wounded soldiers. She had two helpers, your mother Elizabeth and Cleo, the voodoo witch. Speaking of Elizabeth, that's how she came to meet your pa. She was his nurse. But their romance is another story. Presently we're talking about Mrs. Edmonds."

"So this Mrs. Edmonds had voodoo witches living in her house?" Billy asked. "And the soldiers let the witch nurse 'em?"

"I don't believe Mrs. Edmonds ever considered how the soldiers felt about the matter. She has her own ideas of what is and is not proper. Like, for instance her cats. She has fifteen. Her favorite is an old yellow tom who drinks whiskey."

The kids exchanged disbelieving looks. "Ah, I see you don't believe cats drink whiskey. Well, Mrs. Edmonds was subjected to fits of the vapors. And when the vapors hit she'd take to her bedroom along with her cats. Now that old tom was her favorite and would lay right on top of her stomach. The other cats sort of congregated on the floor and chairs and such. Unbeknownst to me, Mrs. Edmonds had a whiskey bottle hid under her pillow, and when she took to her bed, she'd pop the cork and have a party. One day I caught her spoon feeding whiskey to her old tom. She tried to tell me she kept the whiskey for snake bites. Well let me tell you that excuse didn't wash cucumbers. There is not one snake anywhere within the city limits of Baltimore."

"But Aunt Lori, what has all this got to do with these books?" Bobby asked puzzled.

"Yes, the books!" Lori exclaimed. "Mrs. Edmonds was courted by the great Waco Kid. They met when at a book signing in Baltimore. He signed his way into her heart, or so Mrs. Edmonds claimed. I'll have you boys know the Waco Kid gave me this." Lori moved off her trunk and opened it removing a beaded, deer skin jacket. She put it on testing the fit. "Still fits," she proudly declared twirling in a circle. "The Kid gave Mrs. Edmonds one too. But she doesn't wear hers because she's gotten fat and the middle buttons keep popping off. Bobby if you'll open that top book, there is an inscription written inside."

Bobby opened the book and read out loud,

_To Little Running Deer, _

_Remember me when you read_

_the adventures. My you live long_

_and have many of your own._

_Yours truly,_

_The Waco Kid_

"Who's Little Running Deer?"

Lori held her right hand in an Indian salute. "Me. The Kid gave us all Indian names. Mrs. Edmonds was Antelope Sitting Beside Water, and Cleo was Blue Medicine Woman. Cleo especially liked her name since she was a voodoo witch. So you see Bobby, those stories have special memories for me. My wish for you is to read them and have special memories of your own. And when you grow into this," she said indicating the deer skin jacket, "you may have it."

"It's the best ever," he cried. Bobby had seen men in town wearing deer skins. They were rough frontier types he admired from afar. Now he could be just like those rugged men. He closed his eyes picturing himself strutting down Front Street everybody dropping over dead from jealousy. He'd even out shine Mr. Festus's fancy boots.

"Aunt Lori," Billy piped up, "What happened to the Waco Kid? Is he still back east signing books?"

"Not exactly." Lori slipped the jacket over Bobby's shoulders. "The Kid proposed marriage to Mrs. Edmonds, but she wanted to turn her home into a cat sanctuary and turned him down. Last I heard The Kid hopped a clipper ship headed for the British West Indies. Who knows; in a few years we might hear stories of his adventures among pirates."

Brett scoffed at his aunt. "You tell stories just like pa. They ain't no truth in anything you just said. A whiskey drinking cat, a voodoo witch and some old timer who calls himself The Waco Kid. Why you probably got that deer skin jacket off some old buffalo hunter in town."

"Believe what you want Brett. Hasn't anybody ever told you truth is stranger than fiction? Anyway, the final gift," Lori said reaching one more time into her trunk "is for you." Brett jerked the small case out of Lori's hand and tossed it onto the rickety table.

Lori sighed and rubbed her forehead. "You'll regret that. It was your father's."

Brett suspiciously eyed Lori and the box before he pried the lid off. He reached inside and withdrew an army medal, staring at it in awe.

"Your pa was severely wounded at the Battle of Antietam." Lori's voice softened forcing Brett to pay attention. "Among his wounds, he took a mini ball in his leg. The surgeons wanted to amputate." Lori shivered. "George begged them not to take his leg, and at the last minute, Mrs. Edmond was allowed to bring George home to die. Elizabeth and Mrs. Edmonds held onto hope and nursed him back to health. Brett, before your pa was mustered out of his unit, General Meade saw to it that he was recognized for bravery on the battlefield."

"He did?"

"Brett, your father saved the lives of many men on both sides of the war. He risked cannon and musket fire to pull the wounded out of harms way and bring them water. I think it is important for you to have his medal. It should belong to his first born son." Lori's eyes shone as she spoke. She willed herself not to cry, but seeing Brett clutch his father's medal to his chest was more than she could stand. "Well." She stood abruptly and wiped a hand across her cheek. "I do believe its time for bed."

"Will you read me a Waco Kid story tonight?"

"Can I keep the jacket with me and maybe sleep with it too?"

"Can I sleep with my sling shot Aunt Lori?"

"Is Ceilia gonna sleep in your room tonight? Will her doll be okay?"

"Yes, yes, and yes. Yes to everything."

Brett touched Lori on her shoulder. "Aunt Lori?"

Lori composed herself. "I'm listening."

He was unable to hold Lori's gaze. "I still don't like you, but thanks for this." He clutched the medal close and left the house to sleep in the barn.

"It's alright Brett; I like you enough for both of us," Lori said to his retreating back.

CHAPTER TWO

_Dear Mrs. Edmonds;_

_I apologize for the delay in writing, but I have been busy acquainting myself with George's farm and his unique children. Brett is every bit a copy of Elizabeth and has welcomed me in his own special way. Bobby, the middle child, has an indispensable knowledge of the flora and fauna. And the two youngest children, Billy and Ceilia, are heart tugging little imps full of energy._

_As George wrote, he has the deepest, coolest well. It comes in handy for watering the livestock. I'm learning all about barnyard animals and such. And I can brag to you that George's house is the best of its kind in Ford County. It has a marvelous cook stove which burns about anything you put in it. _

_So there is absolutely no reason in the world for you to worry about me. I'm fine, and Kansas is a dream._

_I lay pen aside wishing you good health._

_Sincerely,_

_Lori Durant_

Well, Lori thought sealing the envelope, it wasn't a complete lie. George did have the deepest, coolest well in Ford County. It sure came in handy for scrubbing the dirt clod Lori was forced to acknowledge as home. Two weeks into her interment on the prairie, and Lori discovered survival involved more than a fresh change of clothing and smelling like honeysuckle soap. She needed backbone.

Lori learned that butter churns caused calluses. Candling eggs did not mean to form candles out of egg shells. When slopping pigs, it was best not to wear silk skirts; George's old army pants made running from the crazed sow easier. To avoid swollen fingers while nailing boards onto the barn, move them out of the hammer's way. She was also learning what it meant to be a parent.

Ceilia woke early, and if she didn't have her afternoon nap, look out. Bobby taught her what poison ivy and poison oak looked like. Then when necessary, he taught her how to make the cure for each. Billy followed Lori from chore to chore full of questions about The Waco Kid and Mrs. Edmonds' whiskey drinking cat. And when he wasn't openly terrorizing her with Billy's pet bull snake, poison ivy, or goat's heads, Brett's attitude remained a notch below hostile.

A breakthrough hailed for the two in a fashion similar to a Governor's reprieve. Lori was a patient woman, but she drew a line where Brett, cook stoves, and her favorite dresses were concerned. Salvaging her best from the fire, Lori narrowed her options to either dragging Brett to Fort Dodge in chains or asking the Marshall to lock him away – like maybe twenty years. What saved Brett was a last minute dose of whitewash and the mention of Dell Kendrick's name.

Dragging Brett by the ear to the barn, Lori noticed two cans of whitewash sitting on a shelf. Finding them full, she changed her mind about Fort Dodge and handed a brush to Brett. As Lori announced her intention to brighten the dirt clod's interior, Bobby and Billy joined in and made a game out of Brett's punishment. Things progressed smoothly until a slap across Lori's cheek by Brett's loaded brush, set off a playful game of every man for himself. When the fight ended, paint covered walls, floor, ceiling and the Durant family.

"Well, I guess we all look like a bunch of painted hooligans," Lori giggled. "But at least the walls got a decent coat." They rested under a cottonwood tree allowing the inside of the dirt clod to dry. Ceilia napped on a pallet, the only Durant free from paint. Lori gazed at Brett, covered in white from head to toe courtesy of Bobby's bucket dump. She nudged his leg with the toe of her boot. "Thought you'd get me good did ya Brett? How about a cease fire, on all fronts?"

Brett allowed a smile to tug at his lips. "I'll think about it." He fought the emotion, but he was developing a grudging respect for his aunt. She had spunk. And if anybody had told him his eastern aunt would take to army pants and laugh after getting coated with whitewash, he'd wonder if they'd been drinking Doc Adam's laudanum. Yep, Brett had to admit his aunt was a good sport. And with the exception of his poking her best dresses in the cook stove, she never lost her temper. One of these days he was gonna have to explain that military stockades didn't have dungeons where they kept teenagers chained to walls.

Lori nudged him again. "Brett you need to heat the cook stove _again_. I imagine it's gonna take some scrubbing to get rid of all this paint."

"I might look a sight, but you should see yourself Aunt Lori. That red hair of yours is plum coated. Might have to buy a bunch more of that honeysuckle soap to get it all out."

"Hey, Aunt Lori," Bobby asked. "When we headed into town like you said for new clothes and things?"

"I have a letter to mail, so I guess we'll go in the morning after chores. Boys I never knew there was so much work to a farm." Lori held her fingers up and began counting off an improvised list. "Churning, milking, gathering eggs, whitewashing." The boys laughed. "And we got what Brett, fifty acres of wheat?"

"Yes ma'am. It promises to be a good crop too. If we can keep Kendrick's cattle out of it."

Billy spit. "That skunk. I hate him. I'd sick my bull snake on him, but it ran off again."

Lori felt guilty. She was tired of finding the snake lodged under her sheets, courtesy of Brett. Billy saw her armed with the bucket and whisk broom and gave Lori a questioning gaze. She lied and told him she was cleaning. It was later while Brett read the boys a chapter from _The Waco Kid Wrangles A Rustler_, that she set the snake free on the prairie.

"I hate that skunk more 'n caster oil." Bobby one upped Billie. "Kendrick's a low down smelly skunk. I'd like to see him tussle with the Waco Kid. That'd teach him to mess with us."

"What do you mean mess with us?" Lori asked.

Brett sat upright. She might as well hear it from him, so she got the true story. "Dell Kendrick owns most of the land around these parts-"

"I remember Mr. Grimmick telling me," Lori interrupted.

"Well he wants our place real bad. He started pushing pa to sell right after ma died."

"No," Lori gasped. "Your pa was in deep grief. How unfeeling and cruel."

"Kendrick don't have no feelings. He's mean as a pole cat. Has been ever since he lost his folks to an Indian raid. He wants our water rights real bad. The bastard told me he'd get our farm one way or another. I keep pa's musket on the wall on account of him."

"The nerve!" Lori said growing indignant. "Threatening children. Well the skunk isn't getting his greedy hands on our home."

"You mean that Aunt Lori?" Brett asked suddenly interested in what his aunt had to say.

"With all my heart," Lori solemnly swore. Mud, muck and Brett, tried her nerves, yet she survived. Granted, life on the prairie was not soft; but Lori discovered things about herself which mattered. For instance, lightening did not strike her dead when she gave up fine silks for army trousers. Hard work improved her coloring. As for the calluses on her hand, gloves worked miracles. For the first time in her life, she was on her own, an independent woman. Lori narrowed her eyes. "We fight to keep what's ours. But Brett, nothing will work if you and I are at war. Truce?"

Brett shrugged and exhaled slowly. "All right." The tone in his voice reverted back to the coldness it possessed the day Lori arrived. "We have a truce, but only till we take care of Kendrick." Life taught Brett harsh lessons. If he let this aunt get close, he might grow to love her. And what if she died like ma? He held out his hand wondering if she'd accept his terms.

Lori's mood dampened but she was determined not to let Brett see her sadness. She clasped his hand. "It's agreed. Truce till we defeat Kendrick." Sitting under the blazing Kansas sun, coated in whitewash shaking her nephew's hand, Lori had an idea. "Tomorrow we shop." Shopping always lifted her mood.

The Durant mob spent the better part of Saturday morning in Mr. Jonas's store. Since Lori didn't sew, she bought the children store made sets of clothes, under things, and socks. Some women flashed Lori warning shots which roughly translated veered towards the, _learn how to handle a needle or go broke, _reprimand. Lori scoffed at their arrogance. She had her savings and it pleased her to purchase the children new things.

Next to the stacks of clothing, Lori added the essentials: salt, flour, coffee, and apples. The apples were an expensive luxury, but the kids might enjoy their sweetness. She purchased nothing for herself.

"Hey Aunt Lori," Billy said. He pointed out a jacket and skirt ensemble of light yellows and creams. "You bought us all stuff, well, it's your turn."

Lori dropped everything and passed Ceilia off to Brett. "Here, hold her," she said. The jacket was a solid cream and the skirt a gorgeous silk stripe, with a yellow on yellow tone. Lace ran along the neckline and cuffs. Lori judged the lace to be a Paris creation. Unable to stop herself, she ran a hand over the material "Oh my. I haven't seen anything so smart since I left Baltimore. This dress is perfect for a stroll and lunch at Delmonicos."

"Better buy it Aunt Lori," Bobby said taking a bit out of an apple. "I bet you ain't got one yellow dress like this in any of your carpet bags."

"Your right I haven't," Lori absently whispered, even though she had at least two. She whirled around to Mr. Jonas. "May I try this on?"

"Certainly. Just let me get you some under things to go with it," he said glad to finally sell the expensive New Orleans frock. Kitty turned it down, and he feared a loss for all the time it hung on his rack.

"Oh, I have to have it." Lori's coloring took on a rosy hue parading in front of the children. "It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen."

"Aunt Lori, you got tons of dresses at home," Brett said. "You might want to reconsider on account of I got some harness needing fixed."

"But we have funds. Remember I told you Mrs. Edmonds made a lot of investments with my money. I've a tidy sum and as long as we don't get too extravagant, we're set." Slapping a hand down on the counter, Lori proclaimed, "Kids after this, we deserve lunch at Delmonicos."

Brett dropped his harness at Maynard's Shop, and spying Festus and Quint, he ran over slapping Festus on the back. "Hey guess what? Aunt Lori's treating us to lunch at Delmonicos. Never been there before. Well gotta run see ya." He tossed a wave and cut across Front Street dodging horses and buggies. Not seeing Louie Pheters, he plowed headlong into him nearly knocking the inebriated man into a horse trough. "Sorry Mr. Pheters!" Brett said skipping down the boardwalk.

Quint and Festus watched in amusement as the usually serious Brett Durant acted as if the day were a holiday and the fishing ripe. "Bout time them youngins had some happiness," Festus said. "Been hard on 'em." He flitted through the various members of the Hagan clan hoping to find a comparison and pass off some Hagan wisdom, but Quint interrupted him half way through Aunt Thede's second husband.

"Well," Quint said airily. With Festus he never knew when to be completely serious. "If you feel that way, why don't you join them? You can even pay for the meal."

Festus snorted, "Ain't got time – sides I recall you was a fixin to buy me a beer on account of them bellows I mended up last week."

Quint took a deep breath remembering how Festus mended up his bellows. Then he rolled his eyes at the thought of _why_ Festus had to mend his bellows. "Actually, Festus, a beer sounds good about now."

Noticing he had the upper hand, Festus tucked his thumbs in the waist band of his pants and began an exaggerated sashay across the street to the Long Branch. Quint removed his apron and tossed it on the anvil and followed.

Brett reached Delmonicos out of breath and discovered Lori and his siblings seated at a round table next to the window of the restaurant. Lori waved to Brett motioning for him to hurry and join them. The air snapped with excitement.

"The special today is stew. I didn't know how long you'd be so I ordered for you," Lori said as Brett pulled out a chair. That was fine by Brett. His mouth watered enough to fill a dry creek bed.

The food soon arrived bringing a halt to conversations about the morning's shopping excursion and the art of harness mending. The owner of the restaurant watched the Durant family impressed that Lori instructed the children in proper restaurant etiquette. Elbows never belonged on a table. Gentlemen removed hats when they entered a building. And shouts of, "Hey Brett chows on!" is never appropriate.

Half way into the meal Billy looked up from his plate. "You know what the best part of this is?" he said scooping up a mouthful of stew.

"What's that Billy?" Lori asked. She dipped her butter knife into the bowl and removed a slathering of butter for Bobby's roll.

"We don't hafta do the dishes." Everybody laughed and silently Lori agreed. If she kept washing dishes and doing laundry at the same rate, her hands were going to become two weathered pieces of leather. It was a good thing she insisted on purchasing the expensive lotion Mr. Jonas had in the back of his storeroom.

"Bobby, how's your stew?" Lori asked.

"Good," he said through a mouthful. Since the waiter sat his plate in front of him, he dug in scraping down to the white of the china. "Can we get seconds Aunt Lori?"

Lori shook her head no in response. "We have to finish. I'm supposed to meet with the banker about your pa's estate. It shouldn't take long, but you'll need to sit quietly while I go over the final accounts."

"I don't wanna sit."

"Me neither."

"I can take the kids over to Miz Garrick's," Brett said in an off-hand manner. Bobby and Billy began snickering.

"What's so funny?" Lori asked.

"Miz Garrick has a daughter named Hannah. Brett's sweet on her," Bobby said.

"Hey watch it," Brett said and smacked his brother upside the head. His sudden movement shook the table and Billy's milk spilled onto the floor.

Lori calmly grabbed an extra napkin and mopped Billy's spill. "Alright you two stop teasing Brett right this instant." Setting the glass back in front of Billy she said, "There's still some left. Try not to spill it again."

"But Aunt Lori, I didn't," Billy said confused. It was Brett who shook the table. Billy was always getting accused of things. He didn't really mean to cause trouble, it always found him.

"Brett, here is some spare change." Lori dug in her reticule handing him pennies. "If the boys and Ceilia behave themselves at Miz Garrick's, you can buy them stick candy. And please thank her for allowing you all to visit."

"Sure Aunt Lori," Brett said. "You hear that you three, good behavior or no candy."

"We hear," Bobby and Billy moped.

"I'm sorry Miss. Durant, but it's is the best I can do under the circumstances." Lori sank back in the chair as if absorbing the wallop of a sledge hammer. For the past hour, Mr. Gaylord Archer, the President of Drover's Bank, carefully laid out her financial straights. She was flat broke.

"I should have come here before Delmonicos and the store," she said in a stunned whisper. "You're sure of it Mr. Archer?"

He nodded. "Quite sure. Evidently this Mrs. Edmonds placed your funds into some very risky investments. And I'm sure you don't want to hear this, but your brother gambled and he acquired a long list of creditors. After Elizabeth died, things got worse. He took out a mortgage on the farm. It's a shame he couldn't get his finances into better shape before drinking himself to death. I assume you'll want to sell and move the children back east. I have a buyer, and any profits left from the sell should allow for a comfortable trip."

Brett and the children would never forgive her if she sold. For that matter she'd never forgive herself. There had to be another way. "No Mr. Archer, I won't sell. Please use what's available in my savings to pay off George's debts. As to his bank note, is there any possible way for you to work with me?" If the banker agreed to extend the note, then with the harvest from the wheat, she and the children could survive the year.

An uncomfortable, anxiety swept over Gaylord Archer. He ran a finger around the inside collar of his shirt which suddenly felt like a noose. "I'd like to Miss. Durant. I realize you had no idea of the severity of George's indebtedness, or Mrs. Edmonds mismanagement of your funds. Unfortunately, I can't promise anything other than I will consider your circumstances."

Lori nodded. "I understand," she said without really understanding anything at all. Lori rose to her feet. "Good day."

"You're sure you won't change your mind and sell?" He asked escorting her to the door.

"Very sure. In fact, I hope to hear good news from you soon."

Mr. Archer smacked his lips and opened the door for Lori. A burst of heat made her dizzy, and Lori placed a hand against the side of the building to regain her composure. After mouthing a silent prayer for one of Mrs. Edmond's bad investments to turn golden, she gazed out over Front Street. Horses trotted and cowboys whooped it up at the various saloons. In the distance, cattle lowed in complaint as they were herded into cattle cars. She wondered if the children were still at Miz Garrick's.

"Cuse me Miz Durant?" The man said quietly bringing a finger to the brim of his hat. He was a gangly sort, scruffy in his appearance and unshaven.

"Yes, can I help you?"

"I'm Festus," he said. "Festus Haagan is the name. Ma'am the Marshall would like it ifn you could come to his office."

Warily, Lori scanned the street. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Oh, it ain't nothing but a bit of mischief. I reckon we can git it fixed right up in no time," he said wanting to reassure her. "Right this way ma'am."

The Marshall's office sat on the opposite side of Front Street about midway out of town. Festus and Lori walked side by side exchanging the occasional nod or greeting. "Folks here sure are nice," Lori said. "Most everyone has gone out of their way to make me feel welcome."

"You ain't met Dell yet," Festus muttered under his breath.

"I'm sorry," Lori said.

"What I said was this here's the friendliest town in these parts and I just knowed you'd fit in oncet I laid eyes on ya. Well, here we are," he pointed at the Marshall's office. "I best be off ma'am got business over at the Long Branch."

Lori gave the man her most charming smile. "Thank you Festus. I hope we meet again."

"I reckon we'll run into each other a whole heap of times. Ma'am," he said and was gone.

Lori stepped over the threshold of the Marshall's office and stopped short. An unconscious hand flew to her neck. The Marshall, had to be the one wearing the star on his chest, crossed his arms and stared at her. The other man, the one next to the Marshall brought on her heart stoppage.

Lori prided herself where it involved matters of the heart. She refused to give in and become some silly frump of female giddiness. Until now. The two eyes locked on her were the deepest indigo she'd ever seen. They'd be sensual too, if they weren't openly glaring at her. The rest of the man's qualities defined the word sensual. He dressed like other cowboys - chaps, shirt and boots. It was how his body filled them out, which made her wish for Mrs. Edmonds' vapor cure. Muscles strained and rippled against the material covering his form; a gun belt slung low over narrow hips bringing a blush to Lori's cheeks. She tore her eyes off the gun belt and watched mesmerized as the man lazily pushed the Stetson back on his head.

The interaction between the two was not lost on Matt Dillon. He stood and walked over to Lori. Trying to ease the situation, he extended his hand. "Miss. Durant I'm the United States Marshall for these parts. Name's Matt Dillon."

A chorus of _Aunt Lori's and Billy's innocent _erupted from a long narrow bench where the four Durant children sat. Lori whirled around and witnessed faces panicked as if on trial for their lives.

"Now you kids hold your horses. I said I was gonna handle this and that's what I intend to do. No more outta any of you, or I'll slap ya in a cell," Marshall Dillon ordered. He used his authoritative in charge voice and added a bit of mean for good measure. Not much else worked on the Durant kids. The only person he frightened was Lori.

"Marshall may I ask what's happened that you'd threaten my children with incarceration?"

The sensual man lowered his head and shook with suppressed laughter. Under the circumstances his merriment seemed hardly appropriate, "Sir?" Lori challenged him.

"Miss. Durant maybe I can explain," The Marshall said. "This gentleman is the owner of that busted window sitting in the wagon outside."

"Oh," Lori said frowning as realization set in. "Billy's slingshot." She knew she never should have allowed him to bring it into town.

"I'm afraid so. Now Mr. Kendrick here-"

Lori grimaced at the mention of the Kendrick name. "Not Dell Kendrick?"

The Marshall and the man nodded.

"_The_ Dell Kendrick whose ranch butts up next to my brother's farm?"

The two men nodded again.

"Oh my."

"He thinks I did it on purpose Aunt Lori!" Billy shouted in his best victim voice. "He chased me and dragged me and everything!"

"The Marshall said for you children to hush." Lori rubbed her forehead. She paused growing angry and drew her hand away from her face. "Billy, did you say this man dragged you?"

"I can answer that," Kendrick said enjoying the woman's discomfort. When she pranced into Matt's office, he was sure Festus had plucked the wrong woman off the street. He figured the Durant Aunt for the homely sort- a thin, school teacher type who enjoyed rapping knuckles. Not some curvy little red head in yellow silk. "Your brat took his slingshot and busted my new window. When I tried to snatch it from him, he took off. So I ran him down and drug him back to the Marshall's office." Dell watched Lori's eyes widen and figured she was about to swoon. She didn't have much salt to her that was for sure. A man fighting a prairie fire with kerosene had a better chance of survival than she did raising those hellions.

Lori's temper boiled over. "You _ran him down_?"

"Lady I was dang near close to lassoing him. But I drug him back by the heels instead."

"You physically drug my nephew back to this office _by his heels?_"

"In the dirt kicking and screaming every step of the way."

"Marshall Dillon!"

"Now Miss. Durant," The Marshall said ignoring Lori's outburst. "Dell and I here figured up the cost of a replacement window. It comes to twelve dollars and fifty cents."

"Oh," Lori said bristling. To men, it was all dollars and cents. Everything had a price tag. Never mind human beings as long as figures end up in the black. Hadn't the banker just proved that to her?

"He took my slingshot too and won't give it back," Billy said pointing at the Marshall.

Brett mussed Billy's hair comforting him. "He'll give it back alright Billy. Don't you worry."

Bobby jumped off the bench. "We saw the whole thing Aunt Lori; it was an accident. Billy didn't mean to shoot his stupid old window."

Pulling Bobby back down on the bench, Brett attempted to finish the explanation. "What Bobby says is the truth Aunt Lori. We saw that skunk Kendrick rough up Billy from Miz Garrick's, so we hightailed it over here. The Marshall made us sit down, and he sent Mr. Hagan after you."

"I see. Billy are you hurt badly?"

Billy let out an exaggerated groan. "That skunk Kendrick busted up my ribs something fierce Aunt Lori," he said doubling over on account of busted ribs sounded like good and roughed up.

Lori eyes darted around the office searching for a place to sit down. The only empty chair was behind the Marshall's desk. She squared her shoulders and marched over flouncing her new skirts. Marshall Dillon was a tall imposing man and his office furniture fit his form, not Lori's. Her chest barely rose above the desk. To give an added boost to her height, she adjusted one leg underneath her bottom. It wasn't much, but it helped. She emptied the contents of her reticule onto the desk.

"You mind telling me what you're doing there?" Matt asked amused at the little eastern woman engulfed by his desk and chair.

"Certainly," Lori said. "I just need to get at the lining." She ripped a square of material from the bottom of the bag. Underneath, she removed a wad of coins. Lori counted them into her hand and then stuffed the remainder back inside. It was the last of her emergency travel funds. "This should take care of your window, Mr. Kendrick," she coolly informed the man, pushing the coins across the table in his direction.

She ain't gonna last, Dell thought scooping up the money. She's too dainty for all her show of sass. He wondered if her fingers ever traveled over the rough handle of a plow. He bet she hadn't seen one day of hard work in her life. And the dress she had on. It was from Jonas's. The same dress old man Jonas had been trying to sell for six months. No one would buy it due to the price tag. Went to show she had no head for money either. And this was the woman in charge of the Durant hell raisers? God help her, but George's farm was going to be his in no time.

Backing away from the desk, Lori noticed Billy's slingshot wedged into a half opened drawer. "Marshall, may we please take the slingshot with us? The reason I ask is because it belonged to George and was meant as a gift for Billy. I give you my word that it will never be brought into town again."

He nodded in agreement. "As long as you give me your word, that'll be alright." Lori removed the slingshot and motioned for the children to prepare to leave.

"Not so fast," Kendrick growled.

Lori coolly motioned for the children to sit back down. "Yes, Mr. Kendrick?"

"There's only five dollars here. That window cost me twelve-fifty. Not to mention that it took over six months for it to get here from Kansas City."

Marshall Dillon sobered and set his mouth in a tight line. Right about now, he'd rather deal with the likes of rustlers as opposed to the blow up about to take place.

"Mr. Kendrick," Lori said quietly. "I fully realize that I gave you only five dollars. The remaining seven-fifty is to provide medical care for my nephew."

He tried by Matt failed to cut off the laugh welling up in his belly. "Miss. Durant, I don't believe Billy here is anywhere near seven dollars and fifty cents worth of hurt."

"He ain't five cents worth of hurt," Kendrick jeered.

"Marshall, five dollars is all this," she pointed a thumb in Kendrick's direction, "so called gentleman is going to get. If Mr. Kendrick finds my terms unsatisfactory, he's welcome to take me to court."

Turning to face the skunk she added, "I'd love for you to explain to all of Ford County how you chased a seven-year-old child down the middle of Front Street, _dragging_ said child in the dirt, _by the heels_, all the way to jail."

Dell Kendrick's jaw set. He wasn't used to women standing up to him. Most either fought for his attentions or stayed out of his way. And with the exception of Corinne over at Maddie's house, he preferred women who stayed out of his way.

"Your words Mr. Kendrick," Lori said. She'd teach that skunk to drag innocent children.

Dell felt the grinding tightness in his jaw. Not only was she facing him down in front of Matt, she used his own words against him. The little ninny didn't even have the good sense to be afraid.

"Furthermore," Lori pressed her advantage, "you freely admitted in front of me and the Marshall that you not only dragged my seven-year-old nephew _in the dirt_, _by his heels_, you would have lassoed him! Your boorish behavior may be acceptable for savage Indians; however, we live in a civilized society. Good day Mr. Kendrick, Marshall Dillon." Lori took Ceilia out of Brett's arms. "Come along children, its time to go home. Oh, Billy one minute."

"What Aunt Lori?"

"Did you apologize to Mr. Kendrick about his window?"

"I tried but he started chasing me. I was too scared, on account of I'm just a seven-year-old child," he said.

"Well he isn't going to hurt you now, not in front of the Marshall. You need to apologize."

"Sorry," he spit at Kendrick.

"Marshall if that's all, my family and I will bid you good day," Lori said flouncing her skirt over the threshold of the office door. Before leaving, she leveled one cold hard stare at Kendrick. Billy stuck out his tongue. He poked his thumbs in his ears and was about to wiggle his fingers when Lori grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him away.

"You know Dell this is all your fault," Matt said once they were alone. "On account of your boorish behavior. Don't you know we live in a civilized society?"

"Well Matt I'll try to remember that the next time one of her little dears destroys my property." Dell Kendrick adjusted the fit of his Stetson to a more comfortable angle. "Marshall Dillon if that's all, I will bid you good day."

Matt Dillon chuckled.

"Billy," Lori asked on the way out of town. "How did you come to break Mr. Kendrick's window?"

"I aimed right for it," he said without hesitation.

"But in town you said it was an accident. All of you said it was an accident. You lied to me!" Lori felt her pulse race. She wondered what type of punishment would be appropriate. Parenting was turning out to be more of a challenge than she bargained for.

"Well, Aunt Lori it was that skunk Kendrick," Billy said. "Who cares about him anyways?"

"I care. We're better than Mr. Kendrick's kind. We don't try to run people off their land. We don't chase children down in the middle of the street and drag them places. Look, when we get home we'll talk more about what went on in town today."

Lori hugged Ceilia close to her chest and kissed the top of her head. She never bargained for being independent _and_ broke. She never bargained for three feisty hellions. And she never bargained for Dell Kendrick.

29


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter three

"Did you hear the news?" Kitty asked. "Matt's officially offered Festus the job of deputy." Kitty refreshed Lori's coffee and sat the blue and white china pot on the side table. It was a pleasure to enjoy a cup of coffee over chit chat. Time and work prevented the two women from getting to know one another. So when Kitty saw Lori stroll into the saloon, carpet bag in hand, she brewed a fresh pot and whisked Lori upstairs.

Lori sipped out of the china cup admiring the surroundings. Kitty's taste mirrored her own, elegant and refined. The room boasted furniture of rich, hard woods adorned in lush upholstery. Carpets ran along floorboards, light, airy wallpaper brightened the walls, and red draperies teased in bullion fringe hung at the windows allowing the morning sun to filter in. Lori decided her new friend needed one of Mrs. Edmonds' cats to take advantage of the sun spots. A wry smile teased at the corners of Lori's mouth, and she wondered if Kitty had ever seen the inside of a dirt clod.

"Is the smile for the news about Festus or something else?"

Lori felt her cheeks color. "I apologize for my obvious behavior. Kitty, I'll share a secret with you. You have the most beautiful room I've seen in quite some time. This is a palace compared to George's hovel. But," she shook off the comparison, "I am glad to hear the news about Festus. He seems like a nice man. By the way, what happened to the deputy I met – the one who introduced me to the charming Moss Grimmick?"

"Chad Brewster was found shot dead." Kitty put the words straight out. No use mincing ugliness.

"Oh how horrible," Lori gasped. "Chad Brewster – I never knew his last name. The day we met, we only shook hands and exchanged a few pleasantries. Do you know what happened?"

"All I know is Matt found his body after the storm the other night. When Chad didn't show up for work, Matt rode out looking for him – found him face down on the prairie. From what Matt says, it appears the rain washed away any sign. I know Matt though and whoever killed Chad is running on borrowed time. Now, I have something to ask you. Lori, what's the real reason you've shown up lugging a carpet bag in tow?" Kitty paused and wryly added, "Running away?"

"Oh you heard about Billy's slingshot." Lori watched Kitty's eyes sparkle at the mention of Billy's escapade. If only the rest of the town sparkled at the mention of the Durant children. "The answer is no. I'm not running away," she said conscious of the items in her carpet bag. Lori forced a surge of regret down her throat. She never dreamed she'd part with her emerald taffeta or her peach organdy. She bought them on holiday in New York. The peach exuded a stylish, cosmopolitan flare. The emerald drew out Lori's vanity. Men had been known to lay their bodies across mud puddles when she wore it, begging her to walk over them – metaphorically speaking of course.

"I'm here on a mission," Lori sighed. "After a stern self examination, I've come to the conclusion that good taste is my lone talent. The almighty blessed me with an uncanny ability to single out the best couturiers on any seaboard. And however high that quality might rank in Baltimore, on the western plains it's about as useful as a third thumb and twice as embarrassing."

Kitty studied the young women in front of her and liked what she saw. Lori Durant had grit. It took grit to give up eastern luxuries for a dirt farm and four orphans. Granted not a lot of common sense, but Lori had a brain and Kitty figured life was stretching her capacity for rational thought.

Lori sat her coffee cup on the side table. "Kitty I never once thought I'd wear George's old army trousers or worse yet, like them. For three years straight I've made the best customer list of the finest Baltimore and New York Couturiers." She rested a hand on her throat and chuckled. "If Mrs. Edmonds knew about my current mode of dress, she'd be thrown into a fit of the vapors. Cleo on the other hand would douse herself in holy water and chant wild incantations."

"I'm from New Orleans. I understand all about wild incantations." Kitty smiled. She liked the sound of Lori's chuckle. It was light and dainty; a far cry from the five feet of grit ensconced in the petticoats and bustle.

"You are! Oh that's wonderful. Cleo, Mrs. Edmonds companion, lived there until the start of the war. So you understand about," Lori lowered her voice to a whisper, "voodoo."

"Lori we're sitting over a saloon, in my bedroom drinking coffee. I think you can say the word voodoo without whispering."

"I guess you have a point," Lori agreed. "Kitty I've met people in Dodge, but you're the only female who has taken the time to befriend me. I don't suppose women understand-"

"Oh for goodness sake," Kitty said giving into exasperation. "Lori men talk. And the more they drink the better the stories. I hear the gossip, and what it all boils down to is the women in this town think you're off your nut."

"Oooooh…." Lori grated as a mental image of Mrs. Edmonds swirled before her eyes. "Off my nut? Well at least I don't own fifteen cats and take to by bed-"

"Honey think about it. You're a lone woman living on the prairie raising four orphaned children. You scoff at anything domestic and spend money like you had a gold mine for a root cellar. And don't bother to deny it because I've seen you in action."

"I'm broke." The words flew out of Lori's mouth and tears puddled in the corners of her eyes. She stood and began to pace the room. "It's true," she said to the look of shock on Kitty's face. "Mr. Archer explained it all. Mrs. Edmonds put my money into some very risky schemes. There was barely enough to discharge George's debts. In addition, it appears my dear departed brother mortgaged the farm and left me to pay off the note."

Kitty handed Lori a kerchief. "Why don't you sell?"

"I almost wish I could. The children have lost their parents; I can't take their home away too. So, I'm holding onto the farm regardless of how much I despise living in a dirt clod," Lori whimpered and blew her nose.

Kitty knitted her brows in confusion. "Dirt clod? Oh you must mean George's Soddy," she said and laughed. "Lori you're a corker. Okay, you don't sell. What's next and does it have anything to do with your carpet bag?"

Lori wiped the overflow off her cheeks and composed her emotions. "Well yes it does," she said lifting the bag off the floor. "I'd ask if you'd be interested in a Sheffield's of New York creation, but Kitty excellent taste is always recognizable." Lori reached into the bag and removed the carefully folded dress.

Kitty admired the garment and appraised Lori's form. "We're about the same size so that's good." The women progressed across the room to a full length dressing mirror and examined Kitty's reflection. "Sheffield's you say? It's pretty enough." Kitty pulled the dress tighter against her body studying the effect. "I can usually wear peach, but this has too much beige and not enough color. What do you think?"

Lori scrunched her features. It was plain Kitty didn't care for the peach. She didn't either, at least not on Kitty. "As much as I need to sell it, I agree. You'll do better with a burst of color around your face, something more dramatic."

"What I really need is new stockings. And you still haven't answered my question. What are you going to do about money? Selling your best dresses is a rather self limiting line of work."

Lori nodded. "Stockings first. I have a pair of embroidered ones from Paris. They will go splendidly with the dress you have on." Lori fished through her carpet bag. "Regarding money, I've asked Mr. Archer for an extension on the bank note. He's promised to let me know by the end of next week. I guess he's busy helping his wife with a barn dance. Here we go," she said handing Kitty the stockings.

"It's the 4th of July dance." Kitty ran a finger over the embroidery. "And I'm in charge of cakes. You planning on coming?"

"Doubt I'll be in the mood for dancing. I do have a few apples left and I'd be happy to donate them for a cake or pie."

"Thanks. I'll count on it. Now say Archer turns you down, what then?"

"Even if Archer _grants_ me the extension, I plan to approach Dell Kendrick with a business proposition."

Kitty gave Lori a puzzled look. "You haven't been into doc's laudanum have you?"

Lori sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I realize Kendrick's goal is to gain possession of the farm. My plan is to offer him a lease. Frankly, it's a perfect solution: we keep ownership of the land; he gets the use of it."

"Dell's a hard man to stop when he wants something, and he wants your farm. Of course you know that."

Butterflies nicked across Lori's stomach. "A hard man to stop? I hadn't thought of him in those terms before." Lori prided herself on honesty. And it was true she hadn't thought of the man in _those_ terms.

Kitty leaned forward and gave Lori a knowing look. "In what terms have you thought of him?"

A disturbing image of indigo blue eyes, wide shoulders and a gun belt slung low over narrow hips assaulted Lori's senses. Feeling her cheeks flame, she said, "Should things get desperate, I'll mortgage the wheat. If things get really desperate, I'll send a wire to Cleo and ask her to put a voodoo hex on both Kendrick and Archer."

Kitty laughed.

"What's so funny? I am serious! You should have seen Brett and the boys when I told them we were flat broke. They wanted to conk that skunk Kendrick over the head, nail him inside of a crate and put him on the mail train for Indian Territory. Those monsters got the idea out of, _The Waco Kid Saves The Denver Mail Run_."

"You've got to be kidding," Kitty sputtered.

"Cross my heart and hope to never be broke again a day in my life." Lori gave her friend a half smile. "Ah Kitty I know I've led an unconventional existence. Pampered too."

"Yes."

"You don't have to be so quick to agree."

"Let me see what else you have in the bag."

"Kitty," Lori's cheeks took on a pinkish hue. "this one's been known to make men prostrate themselves at my feet."

"Pretty stiff claim, can you back it up?"

Lori cocked a pert eyebrow. "Its emerald taffeta."

Matt knelt and studied the ground searching for anything he might have missed. A slight indentation remained in the earth where he discovered Chad Brewster's body. Matt sifted through the dirt and brought a handful to his nose and then tossed it away. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sunlight glinting off a metal object. It was Chad's pocket watch wedged between rock and gravel. Matt flipped the item over in his hands searching for anything he could use as a lead. There was a dent in the fob, and Matt noted that Bellingham's out of St. Louis was the manufacturer. Squinting against the glare of the sun, he cursed his luck and reverted to a tactic he often used when leads were scarce. The lawman put himself in the boots of the killer.

From a low bluff to the west, Quint spied Matt's buckskin and spurred his bay into a high lope. "Howdy Matt," Quint said reining his mount. "Thought that might be you." He patted the stamping animal's neck calming it. "Turn up anything?"

Matt smiled at the deer tied over Quint's saddle. "Looks like you've had some luck. Wish I could say the same." Throwing a nod to the spot where he found the deputy, Matt said, "I came across Chad's pocket watch. What I really need is a motive. Sure would make this a sight easier."

"Chad had some poker winnings. Are they missing?"

Matt shook his head. "All accounted for. And with his pocket watch found, I've ruled out robbery as a motive."

"Maybe it was personal?"

"Possible. Though, I haven't been able to find anybody who had cause to hurt Chad. The way I figure things is he rode out here to meet someone he trusted. And when Chad turned his back, the killer fired a bullet into his head. Chad never saw it coming."

"Doc said the bullet was from a .45."

"Yep," Matt said his voice drenched in disgust. "Now how many men in Dodge do you suppose carry a .45?"

Quint dismounted and studied the landscape. It was an unremarkable stretch of prairie, covered in grasses and yucca plants. He bent over and sifted through the earth allowing the wind to fan it out over the prairie. After a few moments of quiet thinking he stood. "I've met loners out here from time to time. Men who stay away from civilization – hate it. Have you given consideration to a loner doing it?"

Matt's response was to dip his Stetson lower to shield the sun.

"Matt about now I'd lay odds your killer is headed south to Oklahoma, Texas maybe. I'd doubt he'd stick around here and wait to be discovered."

Matt slowly shook his head. "Don't ask me why, but my gut tells me it was somebody Chad knew. Somebody who feels safe right now. No tracks, no sign; no evidence to make an arrest, and the killer knows it. I'm riding over to Lori Durant's – ask some questions. Care to join me?"

"Planned on it." Quint tightened the straps holding the carcass to his saddle. "I heard about Lori's troubles and figured she could probably use some fresh meat."

"So that's what brings you out here today."

Quint's voice sobered, "The Durant place isn't far off."

Matt grimaced at the thought of Lori Durant, alone with four children facing down a killer. He shook his head. "Dell Kendrick's ranch is closer. Dell told me he hasn't come across anything out of the ordinary. I asked him to keep an eye on the Durant's for awhile. Said it was tough duty but he'd do his best."

"I just bet he will. He figures he owns their farm already."

"Well Quint I sort of wish Lori would hurry up and lose the place and go back east. Sure would make my job a heck of a lot easier."

Quint grinned. "Billy's sling shot."

"Yeah." Matt tightened the cinch on his buckskin. "When we get back to Dodge, we can flip a coin to see who buys the first round."

"I don't see why Archer won't give us more time," Brett reasoned. "But if he don't, we still got the wheat. You ain't gonna talk to Kendrick."

Lori took a sudsy hand and rubbed her forehead wishing for a cool breeze. Working the cricks out of her back she bent over the washboard and dunked the shirt into the lukewarm water. "Brett let's discuss Dell Kendrick later on this evening when its cool."

"Fine, but my mind is made up."

"Normal condition for members of this family," Lori said heaping on the sarcasm.

Billy tossed a dried buffalo chip into the air and pretended to shoot it down using his index finger and fist as a six gun. "I still say we conk Kendrick over the head and ship 'em off to Ingin territory. Then we can take that old banker and tie him to the railroad tracks."

Lori put her hands on her hips. "I thought I told you to go gather the eggs. Now quit playing with buffalo droppings and go do as you are told."

"Aunt Lori can I ask you a question?"

Lori flung her arm in the direction of the chicken coop and shook her index finger at it for emphasis. "Billy I've told you five times already, so git-I mean _get_." Lori bit her lip. Like her mode of dress, her speech was developing a prairie twang.

"Aunt Lori you sure you don't have jerky bones? You always throw your arms out something fierce, 'specially when you holler. The only time you don't throw your arms is when you're rubbin yer forehead like ya had a tumor or something. You got a tumor? I asked Doc about tumors but he didn't wanna talk on account of not having time for typhoons in britches. What's a typhoon? They related to those Curriers over in Comanche County? The Marshall keeps talking 'bout stringing them Curriers up."

Brett spied the throbbing in his aunt's temple. Billy couldn't help it, he just naturally irritated people, so Brett figured he better step in before Lori dunked Billy in the laundry tub and held his head under. "Come on Billy. I'll help you with the eggs. Aunt Lori what about the smoked pork? You want it for tonight's supper or you wanna save it for later?"

"Let's try and save it. Are you going to check on the wheat today?"

"No ma'am. I plan on working it later in the week. I got some ideas on fixing the barn's weak beam. Need to git 'er done."

"Good. Then I won't bother you to check on Ceilia. I'll send Bobby when he gets back with the rinse water."

Brett took his brother by the hand and headed for the barn. Billy turned back and suggested instead of crating Kendrick, it might be more fun to tie the skunk on the tracks next to the rotten banker or sting 'em up with them Curriers and Typhoons. Brett playfully mussed the child's hair and drug him by the arm. Lori rolled her eyes and scrubbed the shirt against the sides of the wash board.

Bobby rounded the side of the house sloshing his way to the cottonwood tree where Lori scrubbed the wash. She pointed to a spot beside the washtub and directed Bobby to set the rinse water there. "Thanks," she said and rinsed the shirt.

"I gotta ask you a question Aunt Lori."

"If it has to do with Mr. Jonas's hand lotion, you're asking for another afternoon cleaning out the chicken coop."

Bobby hung his head. Billy swore his sling shot needed greasing and Jonas's stuff fit the ticket. He also swore Aunt Lori would never find out. Well she did and their punishment was a fate worse than death. "That smelly chicken coop still gives me nightmares," he said kicking at the ground.

"Stay away from my expensive hand lotion."

"Aunt Lori, what was Baltimore like? Do you miss it? I mean, think you'll ever go back?"

"Well I can't since Mrs. Edmond's turned her house into a cat sanctuary. You know that."

"Yeah, but is Baltimore real different than Kansas? Do you have a lot more friends back there?"

Lori clipped the shirt on the rope line to dry. "Bobby my life is here. Baltimore hardly ever crosses my mind anymore."

"You sold your favorite green dress to Miss. Kitty. Maybe you wanna get money to go back instead of pay off the bank."

"Why would I do such a thing?"

"On account of you used to have stuffed chairs and junk and now you hafta live in a dirt clod. On account of you hafta wear pa's army pants and back in Baltimore you got to wear new dresses all the way from Paris France. We're not as good as Paris France."

"You're right," Lori said. "You're not as good as Paris France." Gathering Bobby into a playful hug, she whispered in his ear, "You're a million times better."

"I picked some wild flowers for you." Bobby felt his voice muffled by Lori's shoulder. He liked it. Even sweaty she smelled like her honeysuckle soap. "I put 'em in the coffee pot and filled it with water. I figured it'd be okay since we ran out of coffee. And there's not even any bees in this batch so ya don't hafta worry 'bout getting stung."

"That's fine." Lori smiled and brushed a golden tuft of hair out of his eyes. "Bobby, I have something to say to you and I want you to listen because it's important. The day I left Baltimore I vowed never to go back. As far as I'm concerned, Paris France can go jump off a cliff."

"But you hate the Soddy and the wind and pigs. And you like pretty dresses and frilly things. On account of us you had to sell your frilliest junk."

"Honey, life teaches lessons; sometimes those lessons hurt. But if you learn, you grow and become a better person. It's true, I don't like the Soddy very much, but its ours. Do you know what happened the day we all got covered in whitewash?"

Bobby shook his head.

"That was the day we became a family."

"Not Brett. He's gonna run you off just as soon as we take care of Kendrick.**"**

Lori frowned. "Bobby do you remember the scripture verse about Ruth?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of? I can see we need less Waco Kid and more scripture." Lori sat down on the ground and crossed her legs. She patted a spot and Bobby plopped down beside her. Clearing her throat, she quoted from memory hoping it was correct. "Ruth said: Wither thou goest, I will go; Wither thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people."

"What's it mean?"

"It means I traded Baltimore for Kansas. This is my home now. And my people are four special children. Each one owns a piece of my heart, but I'm especially fond of the one who picks me flowers for no special reason."

Bobby crushed Lori in a tight hug. "I love you Aunt Lori. Please don't ever go away."

"Last thing I'll ever do," Lori cooed into his hair.

"Hey Aunt Lori looks like we got visitors," Brett called from the barn. "I think it's the Marshall."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Four

Lori leaned into the corral fence and straightened the post which tilted towards the ground threatening to fall over, dead. With the toe of her boot, she thrust a rock at the base and eyed the Marshall suspiciously. Heightening Lori's anxiety was the figure of Quint Asper who rode along side the Marshall.

Lori prayed the boys had not targeted Quint for a joke the way they had Dell Kendrick's window. She met Quint the day she sold Kitty her emerald taffeta, and for Lori, the meeting proved fortuitous. The left front wheel on the wagon hit a bump loosening its bolts; Quint was quick to her side offering assistance and refusing pay. His polite refusal warmed Lori and reminded her of gentlemen back east - not at all like that skunk, Kendrick. Lori shook off the unpleasant image of her neighbor.

"Miss Durant," Marshall Dillon tipped his hat.

Quint rode in close and gave the boys a wide mouthed grin. He spied Lori and noted how the wind played with the long braid of her hair loosening strands to frame her jaw in a sunset of color. This appraisal was not lost on Brett who felt a strange urge to punch out Quint's front teeth.

"Marshall, Quint, what brings you out our way?"

"I need to ask you some questions Miss Durant," came Matt's sharp reply. Billy gasped and nipped behind Lori's legs.

Lori pried Billy's arms from her legs. "You don't need to hide sweetheart," she said and pulled him around to her front. Draping a protective arm over his shoulders she braced herself. "Marshall I thought we settled Mr. Kendrick's…claim." She laced the final word in a downpour of November sleet. For Heaven's sake, it was one small window, not some storefront's plate glass.

Tired and dispirited, Matt was in no mood for female contrariness. He had a murder to solve with nary a lead. His words when he spoke were direct and to the point. "We did. This is different." He dismounted and towered over Lori. His goal was not to intimidate her; his size was a fact of nature he could not control. "Billy, how are you son?" He said patting the boy's shoulder.

Quint hopped off his horse hoping to lighten the mood. "I was out hunting and thought you folks could use some fresh meat. Met Matt here on the prairie and rode over with him."

"Venison!" Bobby cried at the sight of the carcass. Billy drooled at thought of anything other than cornmeal mush. Brett crossed his arms and scowled.

"Lori while you and Matt talk maybe the boys and I could put the meat away," Quint suggested.

Tears stung Lori's eyes. Quint's gift meant she wouldn't have to butcher anymore of her stock. Overwhelmed, she hugged her new friend while Billy and Bobby gaped at the sight. Brett's scowl deepened.

"You shouldn't have," Lori gushed and abruptly broke off the embrace. "But I'm thankful you did."

"Don't mention it." Quint reddened with embarrassment. "We'll get this put up for you," he muttered and took the boys with him in the direction of the smokehouse. Brett stood to the side, brooding.

"Marshall, let's not stand out in the sun." Lori directed Matt to the Soddy and motioned for him to sit at the bench anchoring the side of their old, rickety table. "If you'll give me just a moment," she said and scooted across the room to the quilt separating the space. Lori took a silent hand and pulled the material gently to the side. Ceilia lay on the bed, her chest rising and falling in deep slumber. Satisfied, she joined Matt at the table.

"I'd offer you some coffee, but we're out." Lori formed her hand into a half moon shape and swept it over the table brushing leftover lunch crumbs onto the floor.

Matt thumbed in the direction of the cook stove. "I suspected you were out when I saw the wildflowers in the coffee pot."

"Bobby picked them for me, without bees," Lori said smiling. "What can I do for you Marshall?"

Matt took the next ten minutes laying out Chad Brewster's murder, its proximity to her farm, and his reason for questioning her. For obvious reasons, he did not inform her about Dell's agreement to keep an eye on her or the kids. "Now Miss. Durant what I need to know is have you or the children noticed anything or anyone out of the ordinary near your place?"

Lori clasped her hands on top of the table. "Funny, the only thing out of the ordinary is that our neighbor, Mr. Kendrick, seems to be riding by a lot lately." She hastily added, "He doesn't stop and the boys leave him alone."

"Lori think hard. Have you or the kids seen anyone, strangers or cowboys from the Texas drives in the area – anything out of the ordinary? Have the boys found anything unusual on the prairie? Anything, no matter how slight, may be the key I need to solve this murder."

Lori did as the Marshall requested. The farm was a quiet place, as farm living goes. "The storm the other night was awful. It scared Ceilia. That must have been the night Chad was murdered?"

Matt sat stoically, giving no indication of thought or emotion.

Lori turned her mind inwards and focused her thoughts on the farm, its outlying areas, and the wheat field. Neither she nor the children had seen or heard anything to cause alarm. The single person or incident to come to mind was Dell Kendrick, and she only saw him briefly at daybreak. He was gathering strays, for once keeping them from her wheat. Lori's thoughts drifted to the man; the way he sat his horse, his movements, his skill. He and his mount worked together like a finely honed machine, his movements as slight as the twist of an arm or pressure of a leg. She watched him mesmerized, unable to tear her eyes away. Recalling the effect the man had on her senses, Lori shuddered.

"Did you think of something?" Matt asked.

Blushing, she said, "I'm sorry but I can't recall anything for you. The shiver was for my wheat. I can't seem to keep Mr. Kendrick's cattle from tramping through it. I plan to visit him with a business proposition soon."

Years of experience kept Matt from rolling his eyes or laughing out loud. Hiding his true feelings behind a veneer of civility, he said, "Kitty mentioned your plan."

Lori, accustomed to parlor room exchanges, saw through the veneer. "It's not what you're thinking. I hope to establish a better relationship with the gentleman by offering a lease on our land. As you can see," she said highlighting the room, "it's all we can do to literally keep a roof over our heads."

Ignoring her remark he said, "You're positive you don't recall anything." Matt pulled the pocket watch out of his shirt pocket and laid it on the table in front of Lori.

Ceilia whimpered and Lori jumped up to check on her. "All I can tell you," she said over her shoulder, "is that Chad and I met briefly the day I arrived in Dodge. I needed transportation to George's farm and Chad suggested Moss Grimmick." Lori patted Ceilia back to sleep and softly made her way back to the table. She looked closely at the watch and picked it up. "Oh, you've dented the fob on your watch. That's too bad."

"Lori this isn't mine," Matt said. "It belonged to Chad. I found it were I discovered his body."

Lori dropped the watch on the table and paled.

"Lori what's wrong?"

"Marshall, Chad didn't own a pocket watch. I know because he told me."

The sound of the front door falling off its hinges drew the attention of both Matt and Lori. They watched in mute silence as the door crashed to the floor bringing up a cloud of dust on impact. Light flooded the interior of the Soddy silhouetting the trio of Quint, Billy and Bobby in the door way.

"There ya done it," Billy chided pushing past Quint into the interior of the house. "Broke our door. Aunt Lori, Mr. Quint done broke our door."

"Don't worry about it Quint," Lori said to the man. "It's the hinges. Unfortunately, we've never gotten around to fixing them." Lori smiled at Matt and shrugged her shoulders. "See what I mean."

Puzzled, Quint stood the door against the side of the Soddy. "I'd be happy to fix those hinges and re-set it," he offered.

Brett made his way inside and stood behind Lori resting a hand on her shoulder. The wagon wheel was enough; the meat was taking things too far. He didn't need any more help. He could take care of his family and his farm just fine.

Quint felt Brett's angry stare and figured a bull in a pasture was less territorial. "Brett," he said hoping to sooth things, "if you'd like my help on those hinges just come on into town and we'll see what we can do."

"No thanks," Brett said.

"Lori let's get back to the watch," Matt said redirecting everyone's attention. "You said Chad told you he didn't own a watch."

"Yes. Simply put, I asked Chad for the time of day, and he told me he didn't have a watch-never owned one."

"Marshall that's Gus Maynard's watch." Brett pointed at the item.

"You sure about that Brett?" Matt asked.

"Yes sir. See that fob at the top? It's dented on the side. Gus did that in his shop the day I dropped off my harness for mending."

"Wow! That was the day I shot out Kendrick's window," Billy cried with excitement. When he realized what he'd said, he immediately bent over and let lose an exaggerated groan, "My busted ribs are paining me something fierce."

Lori rubbed her forehead in response to the Marshall's half grin. "Billy where did you put the eggs?"

"Oh eggs. Yeah I better go fetch 'em. Bobby you come on and help." The boys raced out side. "Come on Bobby, last one to the chicken coops a rotten egg."

"Marshall do you have any other questions?"

"Brett," Matt stood and locked his eyes on Brett. "Are you certain this watch belongs to Gus Maynard?"

"As sure as I can be. Like I said, when I dropped off my harness, he was messing with his watch and accidentally smashed in that part on the fob. Made him mad too."

"Well I guess that'll be all. Thanks Miss Durant." The Marshall picked up his Stetson and slapped it against the side of his leg.

Quint caught Lori's attention and gestured towards the door. "If you need help setting this door-"

"She don't need anymore of your help," Brett scowled at the man. "Stay away from my Aunt."

Stunned at Brett's rudeness, Lori whirled around and ordered him to check on Ceilia.

Brett shot Quint a warning look and scuffed over to the quilt pulling it aside. Lori put a finger to her lips and motioned for the others to step outside.

Trumpeting a fresh smile to cover for Brett's rudeness, Lori said, "Quint I'd like to thank you again for the meat. You've no idea how much we appreciate it. And Marshall, if I remember anything else, no matter how insignificant, I'll contact you."

Matt nodded in the direction of the Soddy. "Lori you got your hands full."

"You may not believe this, but Brett and I have come a long way."

"I don't mean to butt in, but Brett hates Dell Kendrick more than me or even Quint here. You still plan on approaching him with that business proposition?"

"Yes. Brett's fighting it of course. But in order to keep our farm we're going to have to make some changes."

Matt held his tongue. Tipping his hat to Lori, he mounted his buckskin. "Well Quint you ready to head out."

"Will in a minute Matt." Quint fidgeted with the reins in his hands. "Lori there's a dance in town Friday night."

"We ain't going." Brett stood in the doorway of the Soddy holding a sleepy eyed Ceilia. "Are we Aunt Lori?"

Lori drew in her breath and exhaled it slowly. "I'm sorry Quint. Brett's right, we haven't planned on attending. There's too much work to do here."

"Well if you change your mind, I'd sure like a dance."

"She won't change her mind," Brett growled. "Aunt Lori, Ceilia's hungry. You better feed her."

Lori gave Quint a quick apology and excused herself. She took Ceilia out of Brett's arms and pushed her miscreant nephew inside.

She held her tongue and watched out of the Soddy's lone window till the men had ridden out of ear shot. Once they were clear, she lashed out at Brett. "How dare you treat people the way you treated Mr. Asper and the Marshall." Handing Ceilia her doll she seethed, "Your behavior was beneath contempt and you better have a good explanation."

Brett lowered his head pouting. "Don't like the way that blacksmith is always sniffing 'round you."

"Always Sniffing? I've only met the man once and that was in town the day I sold my dresses. He was good enough to fix the wagon wheel. Now he's brought us fresh venison. He's been kind and gentlemanly which is more than I can say for you."

"We don't need his charity because I can hunt. Its just I ain't got time. I gotta make sure the place is running smooth and I gotta work the wheat – keep Kendrick's cattle outta it. He's started sniffing 'round here too. Saw the way you was gawking at him this morning out at the wheat field. You was on one of those walks of yours."

"What did you do follow me?"

He shrugged.

"So you followed me. For your information the only time of day I get to myself is daybreak. Are you going to begrudge me a half hour? It's about all the time I manage to get by myself."

"Bull-"

"Don't you curse," Lori warned him. "Brett I just got through telling the Marshall how difficult it's been around here: Our door; our corral fence; the way Kendrick's cattle are tramping our wheat, and our barn leans, which I know you're doing your best to fix. But honey you can't fix something if you don't have materials or the money to buy them with."

"I know."

"Look, we need to put aside any bad feelings towards Kendrick and offer him a lease."

Brett sucked in air and his face became animated. "We still have the wheat. We can pay on the note when it's harvested. Besides, you promised to fight off Kendrick. You sat right there in the sun all coated in paint – remember?"

Lori rubbed her forehead. "I remember. Believe me I know what we pledged – we unite to keep Kendrick from getting our land. But don't you see a lease isn't the same as selling out. We'd still own the farm, and with the money from the lease we could pay off your father's bank note. We simply can't count on the wheat harvest."

"Sure we can. Aunt Lori like I said time and again; Archer's gonna extend pa's note. He has too and once the wheat's harvested we pay."

"No honey, Archer doesn't have to extend anything. And I can't trust the wheat to produce a sizeable profit either. If Archer calls in that note, we will lose the farm. The bank will foreclose and Kendrick will buy it outright. Now can you understand why I want to offer the man a lease? It isn't because I wish to break my pledge or because I've lost faith in you. I know you can hunt and you do a wonderful job at working the wheat and what little stock we have left. With Kendrick leasing the land, we have a sure thing; money for the bank note with maybe enough left over for a hired man."

Brett flamed red from his neck to the tips of his ears.

"Just until Billy and Bobby are big enough to be a help is all," Lori hurriedly added. "Its time I said something to you Brett. And for once you need to listen. Before I arrived, all your brothers and Ceilia had was you. You fed them and took care of the farm all by yourself. That's a man's undertaking and nobody will dispute that you've done more around here than anyone would expect. Giving Kendrick a lease or even hiring help doesn't mean you've failed. On the contrary, it's a wise decision."

"I still don't like it." Brett raised his voice. "And another thing I don't like is having a bunch of men sniffing around like you was the last slice of pie on the plate. We don't need some man wanting to marry you and bust up our family."

"Brett no one is going to bust up our family."

"That's what you say now. And I don't want no hired man."

"Fine then. We'll put the extra money into savings." With what little stamina remained she added, "I have no other choice. I will offer Kendrick a lease."

Brett puffed out his cheeks and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Guess I better get started on the door," he grumbled. Stopping outside the entrance to the Soddy, he muttered over his shoulder. "When?"

"Soon."

"He starts sniffing around you like Asper, I'll kill him." Brett stomped off in the direction of the barn for his tools.

Lori watched his retreating back. "Well Brett if I didn't know better I'd swear you called us a family – Lord above you might even care a little for me." Lori pivoted on her heels. "Ceilia," she said, "How 'bout an apple?"

_Two days later_

Two sets of fingers, one chubby and one skilled in the art of mischief, deftly slid Dell's shirt and pants off the chair and tugged them ever so silently under the gap between the floor and the plywood dressing screen. A second later, those same skilled fingers snatched one boot and then the next. The heel of the last boot became trapped between the floor and the edge of the plywood screen. A smarter tug to the sound of creaking wood, and it was soon free. Actually, had Dell paid attention to the creak of the board or turned his ear toward the sound of childish giggles, he would have saved himself an afternoon of embarrassment.

"Run for it Billy," Bobby encouraged his brother in a loud whisper outside the bathhouse. They darted down an alley and ducked behind a pickle barrel saving them from capture by Mr. Quint. He stood in front of his blacksmith shop shoeing an old black draft horse. "Whew, that was close," Bobby whispered.

"Do you think we got saw?" Billy asked trying to peer around his older brother. Bobby pushed Billy's head down behind the barrel. "I _said_, you think that skunk Kendrick saw us?" Billy asked in a loud whisper.

"Naw, he and Mr. Festus was too busy jawing bout the dance tonight. Now shut up while I do some thinking." Bobby scrunched his face and thought.

"What about we make a run for it," Billy suggested.

"Hold on," Bobby said keeping his eyes peeled for trouble. "Mr. Quint is shoeing a horse. We gotta wait till he goes inside or something." In a few minutes Quint released the horse's front hoof, patted its neck, and stepped inside his shop.

Bobby tightened his hold on Kendrick's boots and with his free hand grabbed Billy by the arm. "Okay," he said and drew in a deep breath. "You gotta keep close cause this is gonna be dangerous."

"How much?"

"Like when The Waco Kid had to escape from the clutches of the evil Tater Logan on account of Logan was gonna tie him to an ant hill."

"Face down?"

Bobby nodded gravely and Billy gulped. After counting to three in loud whispers, the boys stampeded out of the alley and across the street with Dell Kendrick's clothing flapping at their sides.

They reached safety behind Moss Grimmick's livery, and once Billy caught his breath, the wheels began churning in his devious, seven-year-old mind. "Hey, Bobby, I got an idea. Let's throw that skunk Kendrick's clothes into Mr. Hank's manure pile."

A broad grin stretched the smattering of freckles over the bridge of Bobby's nose. "Good one Billy. We can fill his boots too." A spasm of giggles erupted at the thought of filling Kendrick's boots full of horse manure.

Billy cupped his hands over his mouth to control his giggling. "I bet the Waco Kid never thought of this."

Festus flung the soapy rag at Dell's face. "You ain't never answered my question. Now you planning on asking Miz Lori to dance?"

Dell caught the rag and began scrubbing the back of his neck. "Why would I do that for Festus?" He asked. The thought of asking Lori Durant to dance bothered him; not so much because of their past disagreements. Those would soon end once she lost the farm. What bothered Dell was something entirely different. He saw her the other day at first light. Strays needed gathering and he rode near the Durant place like he promised Matt, and there she was dressed in her brother's old army trousers strolling along as if she owned the prairie. The sight stunned Dell who never thought he'd see the dainty little ninny attired in US army issue. She was the lace and tea type, or that's how he pegged her. A vision of taught material showing off curves, a lot of curves, flashed through his mind. She curved in all the right places from her softly rounded bottom to the hourglass of her waistline. Remembering the sight of those curves caused his body to react. _I'm over due for a trip to Maddie's house, _he silently lamented.

"What's you frowning about?" Festus asked.

"You trying to dance," Dell lied. He'd rather lie than allow anyone to know how the ditzy Durant woman affected him. "You know what doc says about those spurs. Did you at least take 'em off to bath."

"They's my good luck spurs I'll have you ta know. And yes, I took 'em off on account of I don't want 'em to rust. But that ain't the point of this here conversation. If you ain't asking Miz Lori to dance; I reckon I just might."

"You have no idea what you're getting yourself in for," Dell growled. He flung the rag smacking Festus against the side of his ear. "You best scrub some more of that trail dust off your hide," Dell said and jumped out of the tub to dry off.

"Trail dust yourself," Festus snorted.

"Festus?" Dell croaked. "Where's my clothes?" He scratched his head. "And where's my boots?" Lost in a fog Dell picked his way around the room searching for his clothes. He lifted the soggy pile of Festus' winter underwear. "What the…" he muttered. Festus insisted on performing his laundry chores while bathing - no point in wasting a good tub of water.

At Jonas's Store

Kitty held the new bolt of fabric against Lori's cheek appraising the color. "What I wouldn't give for your coloring," She sighed wistfully.

"Thanks. It comes from hard work around the farm," Lori replyed. "You know when I first got to Kansas; I thought the prairie was an empty treeless desert. Now after living here, I've grown to appreciate the beauty of a red sunset, the singing of meadowlarks first thing of a morning, and the way the air smells after a rain."

"You almost sound poetic. In my case, I'll take the city over the prairie any day, and I'll skip the damask till a new color comes in," Kitty said setting the bolt back on the counter. "By the way I never thanked you for the apples. I wish you'd change your mind and stay for the dance."

"I can't. Once I get my order filled, I'm off to pick up the kids. Brett took them over to the Garrick's to show off Ceilia's new tooth." Lori leaned across the bolts of fabric and lowered her voice. "Kitty, who is that man? The one at the counter? He's been staring at us."

"That's Gus Maynard. He owns the harness shop. I thought you knew him."

Lori held her gaze on the man. "His watch was found with Chad Brewster's body."

"You're mistaken Lori. Chad won Gus's watch in a poker game shortly before his death."

"Really?" Lori shrugged and shifted her gaze away from the counter. "Well I guess that explains things."

"And leaves Matt back where he started – nowhere. Would you like me to introduce you to Gus?"

"No," Lori replied. "His staring has made me nervous."

"Well it appears he's leaving now," Kitty observed as Jonas handed the man his purchase. Before he left the building, he stared directly at Lori his features coated in a strange combination of sadness and longing.

Lori shivered. "I've read novels about the hair standing up on one's neck. But until today I always thought it was some writer's imagination."

Kitty frowned. Gus certainly acted strange. Normally, he'd come over and say hello or ask how business was at the Long Branch. Gus was not a man given to rude manners, just the opposite. He was a considerate sort. Maybe it was his health. Doc said he'd been treating Gus for some sort of malady.

Sounds of scurrying feet and children's cries filled the air. "Aunt Lori save us," Bobby cried rushing into Jonas's store grabbing Lori.

"He's trying to kill us!" Billy shrieked clutching the spare folds of Lori's skirt.

"Who's trying to kill you?" Lori asked.

An angry shout brought about a customer's scream toppleing her egg basket. Two women grinding coffee beans gasped in mortification and the younger hastily placed a hand over her mother's eyes. An uneasy silence engulfed the store as Lori blinked in rapid succession.

Kitty looked down at the boys clinging to their aunt's skirts. Bobby peered over a fold doing his best to play the innocent victim. Kitty gave him a conspiratorial wink and Bobby's heart skipped three whole beats. He figured when he grew up, he was gonna marry Miss. Kitty.

Dell ignored the reactions of Jonas' patrons and stomped inside the store, barefoot, dripping wet from his bath. Later, The Dodge City Epitaph would, in a lengthy editorial, draw comparisons between Dell's flight down Front Street and Lady Godiva's historic ride through the Coventry marketplace.

However, unlike Lady Godiva's wonders of God's work, Dell hid his form under the thin pink wrapper he kept pulled tight. Sprinklings of white daisies adorned the shawl collar. Dingy white lace, tattered in places, accented the cuffs and the belt, which was a horrendous shade of pink, refused to stay tied. Kitty twisted her mouth in strange contortions to keep from laughing out loud. The younger woman at the coffee grinder tightened her hand over her mother's eyes. The woman who lost her egg basket staked out a spot near the potatoes to get a better look.

Lori regained her composure and spoke first, "You setting a new fashion style, Mr. Kendrick?"

"I think Dell looks good in pink. Don't you Lori?" Kitty remarked recovering from the shock of Dell's hairy leg. "Dell if you ever get tired of wrappers, I imagine I have a few old dresses you might like."

Dell gave a mocking laugh and tightened the belt.

Lori felt a playful surge of cockiness spurt through her veins. "Kitty, I bet if you add a few ruffles and some matching slippers, Dell here might be the bell of the ball tonight."

"Those two…" Dell indicated the boys nestled in the safe regions of their aunt's skirt.

"Those two what? Bobby, Billy, did you do something to upset Mr. Kendrick?" Lori asked patting the two golden headed monsters.

"He says we stoled his duds, but we didn't. He says he's gonna wallop us too," Billy whined.

"He chased us all over Front Street Aunt Lori," Bobby cried. "He's scaring me."

"I can see why," Lori said. "I imagine Mr. Kendrick scared a lot of people on Front Street."

Mr. Jonas emerged from his stock room carrying a large bag of flour. "Sorry this took so long Miss. Lori…..good gracious…oh good gracious…"

"It ain't what you're thinking Jonas," Dell sneered making way for the mother and daughter as they fled the store.

"No mother, don't look, it's obscene," the younger cautioned. The mother fanned herself threatening to swoon.

The other woman, whose name Lori discovered was Bertha Starkey, circled Dell admiring his legs. Uncomfortable with Bertha's scrutiny, Dell wrapped the garment tighter.

Approving his form with a nod of her head, Bertha rested her back against the counter and grabbed a peppermint stick.

"Those two mini hell raisers…" Dell growled.

"Don't you dare call these innocent babies hell raisers," Lori warned him. "Can't you see you've nearly traumatized them both into fits? Shame on you chasing them all over Dodge dressed like some…some…."

"Some I don't know what," Mr. Jonas said gawking at Dell's get up.

"I kind of like it. Wish my man had legs like his," Bertha remarked.

Kitty let out a belly laugh. "Oh Lori, I'd love to stick around but I've got account books to go over."

"Don't leave us Miss. Kitty," Bobby cried. "We might need you to help fight that skunk if he tries to traumatize us more."

Kitty laughed and mussed Bobby's hair. On her way out of the store, she whispered in Dell's ear, "When you decide to get rid of that wrapper, you might send it over to Maddie's house. Looks like the one Corinne usually wears."

Dell fumed in silence. Shortly after he figured his clothes had been stolen, he heard a ruckus from the livery and spied Moss Grimmick chasing Billy and Bobby. Draping a wet towel around his midsection, Dell took off forgetting it was the middle of a business day in Dodge. Corinne spied Dell from her garden and took pity on the near naked man loaning him her favorite wrapper. Better than a wet towel, he began chasing the two hell raisers down Front Street amid gasps, fainting, and few wisecracks about bad liquor. Now that he caught them, it was a fine line between meting out a thrashing and keeping out of jail.

Kitty spied Moss marching across Front Street. He grasped manure covered clothing in one gloved hand, and manure filled boots in the other. And she had an inkling where he was headed. "In there," she pointed.

"Much obliged," Moss grumbled and moseyed inside Jonas' store. "Miss. Kitty said….oh my….oh mercy me…"

"Mr. Kendrick is setting a new fashion style." Lori's eyes danced in enjoyment at Dell's discomfort.

"Howdy Moss," Dell said knitting his brows together in sheer misery.

"You find them two I reckon," Moss said.

"I found 'em." Dell's voice dripped acid.

"He's in on it too Aunt Lori." Billy cupped a hand over his mouth so Mr. Grimmick couldn't see. "Don't let 'em get us."

"Who's in on what?" Lori asked. "Mr. Grimmick do you know what's going on here – other than Mr. Kendrick's obvious mental breakdown?"

"Well I don't know nothing about that," Moss Grimmick severely replied. "What I do know is that I caught those two little hooligans filling these boots full of horse manure. They ran off when I caught 'em. I met up with Festus who said Dell here lost his clothes, so I went back to the manure pile and dug around – found a shirt and pants. Still haven't come across his hat."

"That's on account of those two scamps cut holes in it for ears and put it on Ruth's head," Festus said from the doorway. He let out a low whistle. "Miss. Kitty was right Dell. You look right pretty in pink," he grinned.

Dell shot Festus a warning to shut up.

"Nut uh," Bobby said. "We never did nothing to Mr. Kendrick or Mr. Festus' mule."

Festus sidled next to Bobby and gave him his sure fire _get the truth outta the scamp_, technique. Bending close enough to count each of Bobby's eyelashes individually, Festus spoke in a tight voice. "Bobby I ain't knowed you to lie to me never. That's cause I can always tell when youngins is lying to me. There's this little veiny thing on the side of your neck. And when you're lying it goes to a bobbin and a jumping up and down like a fish on a hook. So tell me straight out, are you innocent of this here mischief?" Bobby turned his head into Lori's skirts unable to meet Festus' sure fire get at the truth scrutiny.

"Answer him young man," Lori ordered.

"I can't, on account of it's gonna cause my veiny thing to bob."

"So you did steal Mr. Kendrick's duds. It that it?" Lori huffed.

"Well, you'd a got mad at us if we told you the truth," Billy said. "But you gotta stick by us on account of your our aunt and all. It's like the law or something."

"Of course I'll stick by you. However, what you did, no matter how much in the spirit of a joke…."

"Joke my hind sites," Dell fumed.

Lori sighed. "Oh alright, what you did - no matter the reason- was entirely wrong. You'll both be punished when we get home today."

"I'd like to see that. What do you plan on doing – take away their bed time story?" Dell sneered.

Lori hadn't given the idea thought. It was a good one though. Both Bobby and Billy were far too obsessed with the exploits of The Waco Kid and Tater Logan. "Perhaps," she said.

"Figures. What they need is good walloping," Dell said. "And I'm in just the mood to do the honors."

"You lay one hand on these babies, and you'll regret it," Lori declared stepping in front of her nephews who clung tighter to her skirts.

"Babies?" Dell jeered. "Let me baby those two." Dell took a threatening step towards Lori who backed into Mr. Jonas' counter. She turned pleading eyes on the men in the store.

Bertha laughed. "This just keeps getting better and better."

"Dell I don't want no trouble in my store," Jonas warned.

Dell raised a restraining hand, "I know Jonas; I don't intend any trouble."

"I got stalls to muck," Moss said. "Bertha, Quint said to tell you that mare's ready." Bertha nodded, torn whether or not to leave the excitement.

"Hold on Moss," Dell said. "I figure you got two able bodied stable hands right here who can do the job."

"I said I'd handle their punishment when we got home," Lori lifted her chin at the insufferable man. Dell's eyes blazed and he took another step towards her effectively cutting off any escape. "On the other hand, mucking stables is good honorable work," she relented and breathed a sigh of relief when Dell backed off.

Festus raised an eyebrow, "I reckon stable mucking ain't hurt nobody. I know Ruth could use a good rub down too."

"Yeah, so longs as they work and stay outta mischief," Moss stared at the two clinging to their aunt. Round eyes, gaping mouths, they reminded him of two baby birds at feeding time. He shot birds for sport.

"We don't hafta muck stalls," Billy piped up. "My aunt won't let you make us."

"Oh yes she will," Lori said before Dell could move. "And I bet Mr. Festus will be happy to take you over to Mr. Grimmick's and keep an eye on you both."

"You bet I will," Festus spoke up. "Come on you two little scamps, let's go." He grabbed them by the collars of their shirts and began to march them out of the store. "Miss. Lori you don't worry 'bout these two."

"Thank you Festus," Lori said sweetly, "I appreciate that."

"Dell, these clothes are ruined," Mr. Jonas held up the stiff manure encrusted shirt to show him. "Same for the pants. Lori I have clothes in Dell's size but I'm afraid it's costly."

Lori wilted at the thought of her rapidly shrinking funds. "What about the boots?" She asked.

"I ain't touching those," Jonas announced and began pulling a new set of clothing off his shelves.

Harnessing her sass, she proclaimed, "Boots will wash. I won't purchase new boots for you Mr. Kendrick."

"No, you'll clean them out," he said taking the bundle from Mr. Jonas. "Mind if I get dressed in your store room?"

"Not at all. Lori I'll get you the bill," Mr. Jonas said and took out his receipt book.

Lori ran a hand over her forehead before ripping out the lining from her reticule. The tiny amount left paid the bill in full, but left her without emergency resources. Never in her life had her accounts been depleted so quickly. But, she reminded herself, I've never had a dead brother's debts or his desperados entrusted to my care.

Lori was on her way out of Jonas' store when Dell grabbed her by the arm.

"Running away?" He jeered.

"As much as I'd love to clean your boots, I simply don't have the time. I have errands to run before I pick up the children."

Lori jerked away from the man who she decided looked quite handsome in the new clothing. The blue in the shirt intensified the deep indigo of his eyes. She liked Dell's face. It was a strong masculine face, but his eyes, the way they flashed from light to dark, captivated her. She didn't especially enjoy the knowledge that she was smitten by his looks. And that ridiculous wrapper he held to the side. She knew it belonged to some creature who worked at Maddie's place – a house of ill repute. Having a saloon owner for a best friend kept Lori abreast on all the worthwhile gossip. She pointed to the strumpet's robe. "As far as I'm concerned, you can take your boots to the same place where you got that thing. I'm sure the lady's there would be happy to do most anything for you."

"Her name is Corinne. And we're good friends," he drawled, "But like I said, you're cleaning my boots."

"I don't have time." Lori stood her ground.

"Then you'll make time," Dell responded taking her firmly by the arm. "Thanks Mr. Jonas," he called over his shoulder tugging Lori in the direction of the bathhouse. "Once you get my boots clean, we'll get the kids and head for the dance."

"I'm not going to the dance," Lori replied indignantly. "And even if I were, I wouldn't go with you."

"This dance is only once a year, so I reckon we'll go. Besides, I bet you got a least one dress for dancing," he said pulling Lori down the boardwalk. Dell certainly hadn't planned on asking Lori to the dance. The words sprang from his mouth before he gave them a thought. Worst of all, they felt natural.

"I do have a lovely peach organdy, but it's hardly for dancing and it's at the farm."

"Then we'll stop by Kitty's and she can lend you something like that yellow dress you bought from Jonas' store."

Lori stopped in her tracks. "I didn't think you noticed."

"I noticed," he admitted.

Feeling butterflies nick across her stomach, Lori said, "You look ridiculous without boots. I hope you pick up a long sharp splinter."

"Then you can nurse me back to health."

"They don't make enough salt to rub into your wounds Mr. Kendrick."

Dell grinned and propelled her inside the bathhouse.

The man stood off in the shadows of a doorway watching the interplay between Lori and Dell Kendrick. Folks ignored him, they always ignored him and he liked it that way. He was a patient man. He'd bide his time. He was good at biding his time.


End file.
